In my medical career I had the opportunity, if it can be called that, to care for and interact with people who experienced major life traumas. One of the most difficult for the patient and the medical teams to contend with is spinal cord injury that results in paraplegia or quadriplegia. My first time seeing an acute spinal cord injury I was working on the Jersey shore as a hospital orderly and a young man was brought in to the emergency department. He had been body surfing at the ocean beach and a big wave flipped him. He struck his head, injured his neck, and had no movement of his arms or legs. He was a tall, muscled, athletic person. It didn’t seem possible that this devastating injury could happen from such innocent fun. His eyes revealed the terror of what he was starting to realize. At that time, the initial treatment was “halo traction” and I helped to set up the frame and weights on the bed to pull on the metal circle that the surgeon affixed to his head. Even as a novice, I understood that this was not going to help him. He would never again move his body below his upper chest. The despair I felt when encountering this type of acute injury never became easier to deal with during my career. But I did also have the privilege of caring for patients who were living with their limited functioning after spinal cord injuries. Far from despair, most were able to carry on in a positive, productive way without being able to walk, or sometimes use their limbs at all. They were an inspiration. This poem is my imagining what it might be like for someone with quadriplegia, who is very limited in movement, and is on a ventilator.
Observer
each morning
he waits
for the purple finches
to grace the feeder
controlling his chair
for the best view
smiles en todo
frowns if they fly
seed crackers
fixed and yet free
the to and the fro
cloudy today
the aide has left
three at the feeder
as if dipped in merlot
beaks split, tongues fling
joined by a titmouse
his ventilator sings
Brian J. Zink
January 16, 2026
Leave a comment